


Second Opposition

by Hana_Noiazei



Series: Debate AU [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: DenNor, M/M, debate team au, gerita - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22278820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hana_Noiazei/pseuds/Hana_Noiazei
Summary: Just a week after his first-ever debate training, Henrik’s invited to partner with Stellan for another match - this time, with another teammate. But when ideas clash and their opponents are stronger than ever, can they put their differences aside in favour of a victory?
Relationships: Denmark/Norway, Denmark/Norway (Hetalia), Germany/North Italy (Hetalia)
Series: Debate AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1592962
Kudos: 13





	1. Conflict

The moment Henrik steps into the room, he gets tackled.

“Hello!” Feliciano hugs him, squeezing a little too tight for him to breathe. “It’s so nice to see you again!”

“We saw each other last week,” Henrik says weakly.

“But still!” He releases Henrik, still smiling that broad grin. “Half the newbies just quit after the first meeting because they think it’s boring or something. I’m just glad you’re not one of them!”

“Oh.” Feeling somewhat awkward, he gives the vice captain a half-hearted thumbs-up and scoots toward the nearest seat. “T-Thanks?”

“And another thing!” Feliciano plops into the seat next to him. “Your performance in last week’s match was really good, so you’ll be debating again this week!”

He expected that. Henrik nods along, only half-listening as he pulls out his notebook.

“You’ll still be in a team with Stellan.” He waves at Basch. “We’ll be going through a different format today, so make sure to listen!”

He almost rips his notebook’s back cover off. “Another format?”

“Don’t worry about it!” Feliciano bounces out of his seat, returning to the cluster of committee members at the front of the room. “It’s easy, I promise!”

And with that, the conversation is over. Henrik sighs, flips a new page open and prepares himself for the training.

…

“Your teams are on the board!” Once again, Ludwig begins shouting over the ruckus, waving at the whiteboard as he does so. “Check your teams on the board, go to your respective rooms and _start prepping_!”

Craning his neck to look over his teammates, Henrik notices Stellan dodging a cluster of chattering people, stepping over chairs to reach his side. He’s clutching his notebook and a handful of pens, sitting down by him. “I guess we’re on a team again.”

“I thought the World Schools format had three people per team,” Henrik says, “where’s our third member?”

Stellan waves his hand quite randomly, possibly at someone he doesn’t recognise. “He’s coming.”

Henrik tilts his head, trying to follow Stellan’s wave and wondering who he’ll be working with. 

When someone sits down next to Stellan, holding a binder of wrinkled lined paper, he gets his answer.

His teammate’s face lights up. “Berwald!”

Berwald, now flipping his binder open and pulling a pen out of his pocket, nods blankly in a maybe-greeting. He squints at the motion on the board, copying it down with neat letters.

“It’s another ‘regret’ motion today.” Stellan flips his own notebook open and writes the motion at the top of the page with elegant, sloping words. “And we’re on opp, too.” He clicks his pen idly. “It’s going to be a problem.”

“Mmhmm.” As though he hasn’t noticed Henrik yet, Berwald continues writing down who-knows-what. “Which role d’you want?”

Also ignoring Henrik, Stellan replies, “I’m taking third.”

“Again?”

“Clashes are fun.”

Utterly confused from their use of jargon, Henrik stares down at his blank notebook page as Stellan and Berwald talk, feeling something stir in him. Whatever it is, it makes him stupid enough to ask, “so what should _I_ do?”

It’s then that Berwald notices him. “Oh.” He at least has the dignity to look a little embarrassed as he asks, “who’re you?”

“This is Henrik.” For the first time since Berwald’s arrival, Stellan looks at him. “He’s new.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Just as awkwardly, Henrik replies, “nice to meet you too.” He gestures to his notebook. “Uh… which role should I take?”

“Second.” Berwald continues writing. “I’ll take first.”

That brewing something, anger or jealousy or irritation or something, makes him open his mouth to reply, but then he remembers — _he’s_ the amateur here. So Henrik closes his mouth and writes the motion down.

A few moments later, Stellan turns toward them. “Any ideas on how to start the case?”

The motion turns over and over in his mind — _This House Regrets the culture of hard work bringing success_. “Maybe, uh, hard work bringing success can encourage everyone to work toward their goal?” Henrik gestures toward nothing in particular. “Like, regardless of background or something?”

“That’s a good idea.” He copies that down, and Henrik feels a tiny burst of pride. “Ber, can you work on the context?”

“And the burdens?”

“Yeah.” Stellan draws another point. “Continuing on your point, Henrik, we could emphasise that even if they don’t succeed, false hope is better than no hope at all.” He pauses. “Well, that sounds depressing.”

That point goes under the first one. After that, Henrik suggests, “can we say that anyone can work hard, so anyone can succeed through hard work?”

“There’s no connection.”

“Y-Yes, there is.” 

“Where?”

“Well, you see,” Henrik improvises, glaring at Berwald, “working hard always gives people experience, right? And, uh, jobs look for experience, so someone who’s always worked hard will have a bigger chance of being hired because, er, they have more experience, and that’ll lead to success because…” he looks down, trying to think of something to say.

“That’s not a bad point,” Stellan remarks. He scribbles something down, handwriting progressively getting messier and messier. Henrik stares victoriously at his other teammate, as though to say, _see? He liked my idea._

There’s another moment of silence as they continue to write, the room quiet save for the scratching of their pens. He breaks that silence, asking, “do we need to define the motion?”

It’s Berwald’s turn to stare at Henrik, his gaze incredulous as though he thinks him stupid. “We’re on opp.”

“Yeah, and?”

“We wait for prop’s definition.”

“Oh.” Embarrassment washes over him like a tidal wave. “Didn’t know that.” He looks over to Stellan, hoping he’ll come to his defence. He doesn’t.

“Now you do.”

Scowling, Henrik returns to his notes, wondering just how this reclusive, awkward boy can be a debater. When Berwald and Stellan huddle together to discuss, he thinks angrily, what the hell’s so good about him?

But his thoughts are interrupted by the chime of the timer, signalling the end of their prep time. Across the room, proposition side makes their way toward the row of desks at the front.

When he realises who they are, his jaw drops.

“We’re debating against the captains!?”

“The captains, and a committee member,” Stellan adds dryly.

“Yep.” Berwald nods at Ludwig and Feliciano, who are scrambling to finish their notes, and Kiku, delicately stacking sheets of blank rice paper covered with inky black notes. “This won’t be easy.”

“But we’ll do it anyway.” Stellan takes his seat at the end of opposition’s bench, notebook already open and ready to be filled with notes. His passive blue eyes seem to take on an anticipated gleam. “There’ll be no losing to them.”


	2. Grudging Allies

The judge and timekeeper, only Basch this time, takes his seat between the two sides. He sets the time on his watch, lays out his judging sheets, and says, “we now call upon the first speaker of the proposition side to begin his case.”

A thick stack of cue cards already in his hand, Ludwig makes his way to the front of the room. Basch clicks a button on his watch. “Whenever you’re ready.”

After that, there’s only a short moment of hesitation before he begins to speak.

Just like last debate, Stellan begins copying down Ludwig’s points, the tip of his pen furiously flying over his notebook page. When his writing stops, he continues to sit straight, rapt at attention like a tentative rabbit. But that pause only lasts a second, before he continues his frenzy of writing.

This time, Henrik doesn’t need any reminder. He begins to write as his teammate does, not bothering to look at whatever Berwald’s doing. When the timer chimes, signifying four minutes to be over and a minute remaining in Ludwig’s speech, his hand is cramping.

Exactly thirty-three seconds later, Ludwig finishes his speech. Henrik shakes his hand, already sore from continuous copying, and claps half-heartedly when Berwald stands up. Next to him, Stellan claps especially loudly.

_He barely talks! How can he be so good a debater that Stellan falls all over him!?_

Smooth sheaves of lined paper settle over the desk like a word-covered tablecloth. Berwald stares into space for a while, takes a deep, heaving breath and speaks.

One sentence in, and Henrik can feel his power.

He doesn’t have the level-headness of Ludwig, the speed of Feliciano or the grace of Stellan, but Berwald’s speech is strong all the same, slow and heavy. Every word seems to be another strike to proposition’s case, a tiny weight amidst a million others, straining to crush the other side’s point. 

When he moves on to his points, his voice is still quiet and even, but what Berwald lacks in passion he makes up for in wit, with words pulsing with power and a style that almost rivals Stellan’s. If the speech last week was that of a siren’s, the one Henrik’s listening to right now is being delivered by a fairy — straightforward, simple, free of flamboyance and elegance but rife with conviction all the same.

Nobody has asked a point of information just yet, and it seems that nobody will dare to. Berwald stands tall and proud, every word out of his mouth terrifyingly certain. 

When the five minutes are over, and it’s time for him to return to his seat, Henrik cannot help clapping a little louder than he did before Berwald’s speech. 

“The first speaker of the opposition side spoke for five minutes and three seconds,” Basch announces, “we now call upon the second speaker of the proposition side to continue their case.”

Notebook and pen at the ready, Henrik awaits the beginning of Kiku’s speech.

His style appears to be an eccentric mixture of Ludwig and Feliciano’s, calm and easy but somehow still elegant and passionate, all at the same time. Kiku is less stoic than Ludwig and less dramatic as Feliciano, points clear enough for Henrik to copy down well enough. And he does, quickly filling up a good half of his page with his opponent’s points and feverishly writing down rebuttals next to them.

The almost-manic noise of a pen scritch-scratching against rough notebook paper sounds next to him, followed by that of metal scraping against plastic. When Henrik looks at Stellan, he sees him rapidly drawing a graph, filling in clashes and comparatives and everything in between. His ruler clatters out of his hand the moment the graph is complete.

He only has two rebuttals complete when applause makes him look up, and Kiku bows slightly then returns to his seat. Basch scribbles something down on his judging sheet, then says the now-familiar line. “We now call upon the second speaker of the opposition side to continue their case.”

Stellan tugs on his sleeve as he gets up. “Good luck.”

Berwald nods slightly, echoing the sentiment. 

Henrik grabs his notebook, takes a deep breath and scans his notes once more; then he speaks.

Just like last time, he’s painfully aware of how inexperienced he sounds after everyone else, how his points are delivered in a far weaker way. But Henrik continues to speak, making sure not to wave his notebook around too much, and rebutts, extending, comparing, using what little tactics he’s learned to try and contribute to his team. 

It’s not easy, not easy at all, but Henrik finishes off his rebuttals and moves on to his points. He isn’t able to keep track of time, but he talks, desperately adding on to his points until his mouth grows dry and Basch rings the four-minute chime. Shakily, mind spinning, he finishes off his last point and says, “because of this, we are proud to oppose. Thank you.”, then almost runs back to the bench.

Both his teammates are waiting with feedback when he sits down, exhaling so loudly it sounds like a sigh. “You were better than last time,” Stellan remarks. “What do you think, Ber?”

“Not bad.”

They’re not exactly compliments, but he takes them. Stellan returns to his work right after that, already anticipating his speech five minutes later.

Proposition’s third speaker moves to stand in front of the desk. Feliciano lays down his lined paper, vibrantly coloured like a painting with a million different highlighters and ink pens, and begins to speak. 

Despite being the vice-captain of the debate team, it’s clear that Feliciano’s debating skills are just as finely-honed and advanced as Ludwig’s. His riveting strength and style hit them once again, reminding Henrik of just how powerful his fellow debaters can be; just how far he is from becoming like them.

His “dance”, as hypnotising as it is a little distracting, continues on for one, two, three minutes, before Stellan finally jumps to his feet, like he did last week. “Point.”

Clearly not expecting any points of information, Feliciano pauses for a moment before accepting the question. When he replies to it, he seems slightly shaken, as though Stellan’s point has done its job in knocking him slightly off-course.

But it’s a tiny difference, and when Feliciano completes his speech, gathering up his messy pile of notes, Henrik feels as enchanted as he did first listening to him speaking.

The moment Feliciano sits down, Stellan goes to deliver his speech. And even though it’s a completely different motion, with different opponents, different teammates and in an entirely different format, Henrik can’t help feeling a strange sense of deja vu in watching him prepare to speak.

The same lines. “Whenever you’re ready.”

He looks more than ready, his shy exterior falling away to reveal a ruthless debater.

Exactly one second passes. Then he speaks.


	3. Chapter 3

Henrik braces himself for the inevitable shock that’ll come from his teammate’s speech, but still he’s overwhelmed by the sheer strength of it all; the words that come together in glorious formation to create a case as strong as a fortress.

If the points from Berwald’s rough, matter-of-fact speech were like rocks, the ones from Stellan's are like bullets - swift, piercing and a million times deadlier. Henrik can’t tell if it’s bias or not, but he starts believing again that Berwald, although clearly just as experienced, pales in comparison to Stellan. 

As the last speaker of the entire debate, Stellan has the chance to rebut every member of the proposition side. Henrik watches, spellbound, as he addresses each speaker, adding on to Berwald’s points and his extensions, speaking, speaking, as though nobody else is in the room.

At the judge’s table, Basch narrows his eyes as he listens. 

Then come the clashes. They truly live up their names, and though there are no harsh strikes of steel against steel, of cannons being fired or bullets whistling through the air, the quiet words still speak volumes; every comparison sounds deadly and probably is.

On the other bench, Ludwig, Feliciano and Kiku huddle up and whisper to each other. Stellan pays them no attention, until Kiku gets to his feet, holding a small slip of paper. “Point of information.”

No hesitation. Stellan gestures for him to speak, not taking eyes off his notes.

Kiku asks the question. It’s barely comprehensible, with the jargon used that Henrik is yet to understand, but it’s clearly something that Stellan knows all too well. His answer is swift, dismissive, and it’s like the point was never brought up in the first place.

Basch sounds the four-minute chime. 

“Because of this, we take these two clashes. In conclusion...”

His speech is coming to a close. Smoother than stone, clear as crystal, it ends just as Basch prepares to sound the five-minute signal. 

“We have proved to you time and time again simply why proposition’s case cannot stand, and I am very proud to oppose. Thank you.”

And it’s over, just like that. Stellan dips his head in acknowledgement of the claps that follow and returns to his seat, clutching his notebook in white-tipped fingers.

He looks the same as he did last debate, dazed and overwhelmed and almost burnt out. Henrik pats him on the shoulder, only to be brushed off as Stellan practically collapses in his seat. Berwald leans over to talk to him, muttering, “you did great.”

“Thanks.” Stellan flips his notebook shut. “Did I speak too fast?”

“Nope.”

“My points made sense, right?”

“They were really good,” Henrik pipes up.

“Oh, thank goodness.” He leans back into his seat. “I thought I was speaking gibberish for five minutes.”

The three of them stay like that for a while, before Basch clears his throat from the judge’s bench.

He stacks up his notes, takes a sip of his water and declares, “it’s a tie.”

Stellan almost falls out of his seat. “It’s a _what_?”

“A tie,” Basch repeats. “Both sides were very parallel in their case and style, and it proved too difficult to declare a winner.”

On the other bench, proposition looks just as surprised. Feliciano blurts out, eyes wide with surprise, “you can do that?”

Ludwig blinks. “Feli, we’ve always been able to declare a tie.”

“We’ve never tied before,” he defends, waving his hands around, “I’ve never watched a debate that ended with a tie.” Feliciano gets up, scooping up his notes and stationery, and begins inching away from the bench. His teammates follow.

On opposition, they sit in stunned silence. Stellan gazes blankly, Henrik closes his notebook and Berwald stares at his notes. The vigil is broken when Henrik finally speaks up. “Well, at least we didn’t lose.”

“I’d rather have lost.” Stellan snaps out of his stupor and pushes his chair back. “Would’ve been less embarrassing than whatever happened just now.” He sighs. “If I’d just been a little better, maybe we could’ve won.”

Berwald shakes his head. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“He’s right.” Henrik stands up, scans the empty room, save for the team captains and Basch in the corner. “You’re an amazing debater, and I’ve only seen you speak twice.”

“And that’s why you think I’m good, when I’m not.” Stellan gets up, still looking dazed. “Trust me, there are far more debaters here who are miles better than me.”

He doesn’t have a reply to that. Henrik stares out the classroom window, where the sun is just starting to set, and gets ready to leave. 

The next meeting feels farther away than ever.

**Author's Note:**

> The World Schools debating format has two sides - the proposition side (also known as the affirmative side) and the opposition side (also known as the negative side). Each side has three speakers, who go out in the order of first proposition, first opposition, second proposition, so on, so forth. In some World Schools debates, there is such a thing as a reply speech, but that will not be shown in this story.  
> The context of a debate is just where and when it takes place, and burdens are what the team aims to prove in their case.


End file.
